


APRIL 11, 2186

by spicyshimmy



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyshimmy/pseuds/spicyshimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Shepard's birthday and he doesn't want to come out of the shower, so Kaidan comes in. <i>The rest of the crew knew what day it was and Shepard had to know they knew it, from how subtle they weren’t about the whole thing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	APRIL 11, 2186

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Shenkobutts! And happy Commander Day. Also big thanks to Ademska/Kinneas for being the best damn critical eye ever.

Shepard was in the shower.

He could’ve been anywhere else; he should’ve been there. The rest of the crew knew what day it was and Shepard had to know they knew it, from how subtle they weren’t about the whole thing.

But for Shepard, it was any other day. It was part of his routine and Kaidan could hear the water running, drowning out whatever gossip there was, whatever messages were incoming, the hum of the thrusters that were muted all the way up in the captain’s cabin but still audible, if you knew what to listen for. And if Kaidan knew Shepard—which he did—he knew that Shepard couldn’t turn that off. He turned on the music and he let the temperature control set itself, the aquarium bubbling away, a pulsing rhythm to make sense out of how little rhythm there really was everywhere else.

Shepard was in the shower. Kaidan shucked his clothes, no ceremony in that, and joined him.

The element of surprise wasn’t the point. Kaidan still wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get the drop on a guy like Shepard because it hadn’t been in their repertoire to try. When his bare feet hit the wet tile Shepard’s shoulders tensed up, soap between his legs and at the back of his neck, the shape of his regulation buzz-cut pointing to the nape and a few wet freckles in all the familiar places.

‘Hey,’ Kaidan said.

‘Hey,’ Shepard replied, not looking up. After a pause, he added, ‘If the crew’s waiting for me in the cabin to shout surprise when I get out, I’m staying in here.’

‘Pretty sure they’ve given up on celebrating, Shepard,’ Kaidan told him. He reached for the soap, warm from the water and half lathered up from Shepard’s hands. The steam in the stall might’ve cleared their lungs but it wasn’t doing anything for their heads. ‘Not for lack of trying, either.’

‘Just don’t think there’s much reason for celebrating, that’s all,’ Shepard said.

He wouldn’t. All their accomplishments, everything they’d done, how much of it was supposed to be impossible—how much of it would never be enough—it all ran down the drain at the end of the day, just another part of the routine.

Kaidan got the lather on the soap going again, barely touched by the spray, Shepard’s body standing between him and the water. He took a few steps closer and felt Shepard inhale—but not exhale, holding the breath with his face directly under the showerhead above, turned down instead of up. If anything, he was getting soap in his eyes, blinded by the sting.

Kaidan put his hands on Shepard’s back, rubbing the stiff muscle. He made it all the way from the tension in his shoulders to the tension at the base of his spine, following the straight and narrow, a single line drawn all the way down. Shepard was built tough, built solid, built around his scars, and Kaidan didn’t linger on them to point out how many of them there were.

He lingered on the freckles, though. He kissed one and it tasted like soap, a taste that wasn’t actually clean.

Then, he dug his thumbs into the dimples above Shepard’s ass and Shepard let the breath go, braced one-handed on the shower wall.

‘That’s the problem with presents, Kaidan,’ Shepard said. ‘Get too used to ‘em one day, and then you’ve gotta deal with all the rest.’

‘That doesn’t sound like the Shepard I know,’ Kaidan replied. ‘You think I won’t do this for you every day?’

‘If we’ve got the time for it.’ Shepard was hard; Kaidan’s hands came around to the front and touched him, touched him where he needed, this time going from the base to the top but still following the straight and narrow. There was a hot pulse under the vulnerable skin and Kaidan was careful with it, what Shepard liked and what he needed and the heat in between. Shepard _had_ to breathe now and Kaidan rested his cheek against Shepard’s back—so he could listen to him and feel the beat of everything.

There _was_ a rhythm. This was it, right here.

Shepard came in Kaidan’s soapy hand while Kaidan was hard against his ass, rocking into it, just following that rhythm. Shepard’s fingers gripped to Kaidan’s thigh, arm twisted around to the back, always finding some new way to reach for something and hold on.

‘Okay, okay.’ Shepard’s voice shook on another breath he couldn’t fight. ‘You win. Happy birthday, Shepard. I got it.’

‘Good,’ Kaidan said, and meant it. If anything, he’d be there to remind Shepard he could always breathe again. Just taking it in and letting it out—it was nothing harder and nothing simpler than that. 

**END**


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